


Never let me go

by kwunkwun



Category: EXILE (JPOP), Sandaime J Soul Brothers, sjsb
Genre: M/M, Mild Angst, Unrequited Love?, kengun main, translated fanfiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 20:12:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9842042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kwunkwun/pseuds/kwunkwun
Summary: The last day of May wasn’t all too different from all those other days of the year. In Iwata Takanori’s eyes, there is never, ever enough time. But the wait for the 24th to come paradoxically seems to have taken forever.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Never Let Me Go 别让我走](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9572165) by [woodyramone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/woodyramone/pseuds/woodyramone). 



> Translation of ze fabulous yamagun fic by Luvsics... thank you for opening my eyes to another world of treasures!!

The last day of May wasn’t all too different from all those other days of the year. In Iwata Takanori’s eyes, there is never, ever enough time. But the wait for the 24th to come paradoxically seems to have taken forever.

Responding to the interviewers for a magazine, Iwata said that he was envious of how everyone was holidaying overseas, and because he felt kind of lonely he’d been left by himself, he went and had dinner with Imaichi-kun. When they asked him about what Yamashita Kenjiro was up to, he stopped for a bit, and said with a dry laugh, “I’m not sure, I haven’t really seen him lately.”

Yamashita’s radio show plays every Friday, late night. No matter how fed up or how tired Iwata is after work he’d soldier on to listen from start to finish. Yamashita knows nothing of this. A while ago, when he was lounging in bed checking his insta, he caught a fan asking Yamashita whether he’s heard anything about Gun. Yamashita responded: how about I read you his schedule?

Regardless of what he says, whatever comes out of Kenjiro-san’s mouth always carries a touch of humour, Iwata thought.

The scenes he and Yamashita both played in have all been shot, and after the press conference they haven’t met once. But it had already been set that on the 23rd of May, the Sandaime members had to do a get together: in the name of who they all called ‘Ken-chan’, because tonight they would be celebrating his 31st birthday. And of course it’s a celebration that had to be shared between the team members.

Yamashita asked in the LINE chatroom whether there’s a particular restaurant that they’d like to go to. At that point Naoto was still in the US of A but still messaged them a recommendation in the dead of night like he’s already in party mode. When Iwata plucked out his phone after work, Yamashita had sent him a private message:

-What do you think about the place we decided on in the group chat?

\- I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ve always trusted your judgement, Kenjiro-san.

His manager hollered at him to revise the schedule, but Iwata only said, “I’ll be right there.” His gaze lingered on the chat window, but there was no reply from the other party.

When the day finally comes, he could only leave work early, and stand buck naked in front of the mirror, arranging his favourite items of clothing this way and that, like he couldn’t make heads or tails about what would look good. But Yamashita Kenjiro is that Mr Nice Guy, the type of person who’d tell the teammates “you look awesome today” no matter what they wore, and he’d even throw in a genuine smile.

Iwata liked how gentle he was, but thinking about stuff like this brings all sorts of trouble –because he’s never had any idea what Yamashita is like beneath that shell.

Dumbly he stared at his own reflection, recalling how they’ve already known each other for five years. If he knew that things would turn out like this, then perhaps he would have done more to make the most of the time he had with Yamashita. But then, if he knew back at that point how much it’d hurt to listen to his radio show in the dead of night, all alone, he’d probably regret ever knowing the guy.

There’s no point thinking about if and buts, anyway. Iwata remembered how he had met Yamashita in private that other time, and it was as if his skin still carried the memory of how Yamashita’s hand had felt on his shoulder.

God, what the hell, it was a thing from weeks and weeks ago. The young man reflected in the mirror grimaced, like he was snickering at his hopelessness.

_It’s not like it’s something I can control._ Resigned to this fact he shrugged on a coat and hurried out.

 

\--

 

“Here, let me.”

When he came to his senses, the pieces of meat before him were already crooked and misaligned.

“Oh, sorry…”

“Relax, I’ll handle it.” Yamashita reached across the table, took his chopsticks, and neatly rearranged the slices. “I’m already used to Gun-chan’s grilling methods.”

“You’re being a control freak again.” Imaichi unreservedly plucked up a slice from Yamashita’s bowl, but straight away made a face. “It’s not cooked.”

“Then don’t eat it.”

“If you put it there then it’s edible, right Gun-chan?”

Stuck between the two of them, Iwata offered an awkward laugh.

“Hurry up and eat! That’ll shut your face.” Yamashita raised a hand like he was going to clock him. Imaichi dodged to the side, bumping into Tosaka who was preoccupied with his phone, and then the argument was just as quickly forgotten when everyone broke into laughter.

“Well then, while the meat is still cooking, let’s all wish Kenjiro happy birthday.”

“Three, two, one, kanpai!”

“Happy birthday, Ken-chan.”

“Happy birthday, Kenjiro-san.”

Crap, he stands out like a sore thumb.

“Gun-chan, you can say Ken-chan too can’t you? Have a go.”

“I can’t, I’ll get beaten up.” Anxiously Iwata stole a glance at Yamashita, who foregoes responding in the place of a dismissive wave.

Yamashita had a low tolerance for alcohol; he was the type to go red from just two glasses. Iwata held his own glass tightly, and with a flick of his wrist took a lonesome sip.

People who got drunk easily were better off drinking less.

No one shared Iwata’s concern. After the third round, Yamashita was all stuck on Imaichi and Naoto, and their conversation had fallen into the gutter as all conversations tended to do when a bunch of guys got together. It used to be a thing that he enjoyed. Being twenty five, six years of age, in his prime but with nowhere to vent, it was understandable that he’d be fascinated by dirty talk.

Even if he realised how he felt about Yamashita, it’s not like the scope of his conversation topics would close off.

After all, Yamashita’s just a special case isn’t he? Iwata liked girls.

Iwata thought that nobody could understand him better than himself.

“Let’s talk about something pure now.”

“The under-thirties here please tell us what kind of sex you’d most like to experience before you hit thirty.”

“And you call this pure?” Imaichi put on a cynical expression.

“You’re going to be thirty this year right? This kind of topic is best left untouched by uncles.”

“Ken-chan, that’s so cold! Whatever, you just want to hear Gun-chan-

-Ryuji.”

It was Tosaka who cut him short.

Did he just hear his own name? Iwata started.

“I want to smoke.” Tosaka stared at the smudge of sauce on the corner of Imaichi’s mouth. “Come with me?”

 

TBC


End file.
